


Granny Oaky's Mini-fic Prompt Fills

by GrannyBoo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ficlets, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 07:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: A collection of fics that aren't quite long enough on their own.1) Fjord/Caleb - Sword fighting lesson





	Granny Oaky's Mini-fic Prompt Fills

“Just- feet a little further apart.”

“…Good?”

“A little more- here,” Fjord’s foot nudges Caleb’s into the correct distance apart, one hand resting Caleb’s hips to steady him and the other cradling the hand holding the dulled short sword. Nothing fit for actual combat, but for these basic lessons in form, it would do the job.

“Yes, pose me like your little doll,” Caleb smiles, a wry little thing as he looks at Fjord out of the corner of his eye. The half-orc lets out a murmured ‘cheek’ before darting in to press a light kiss to Caleb’s temple.

“Alright, plant your back foot, you wanna use that for dartin’ forward or duckin’ out of the way.”

“And when do I use two hands?” Caleb attempts to bring his hands together on the small handle.

“Not on uh, not on something like this. It’s a lighter weapon-“ Caleb scoffs, his arms already complaining of the foreign weight he’d been holding for a good 15 minutes now. “Really, its light compared to somethin’ like Yasha’s. Now that’s a two handed kinda blade. This little thing, you’re focused more on speed than power. Alright,” Fjord proceeds to correct Caleb’s posture, hands trailing over the fabric of his shirt, occasionally brushing against the skin beneath.

“I know you’ll remember all that,” Fjord says, kissing Caleb’s cheek quickly as he moved to take his position across the yard from him, the rustling of the leaves above in Caduceus’ tree giving them some white noise to relax them. “Alright. Come at me.”

Caleb hesitates, lips a thin line as his eyes dart at the sword, then back to Fjord.

“I promise you won’t hurt me,” Fjord’s voice is kind, his smile moreso, and the tugging thread of anxiety in Caleb’s chest goes slack and his lips curls into an answering smile.

“Is that not the point?”

Fjord grins and nods at Caleb’s blade.

“If you can get a hit on me with that before Caddy calls us for dinner, I’ll buy your next three batches of paper.”

“You do that anyway,” Caleb’s replies with fond exasperation.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Fjord snarks. Caleb memorises the position of his body, the way his arms and knees are bent and the weight of the blade itself.

He bolts forward, Fjord parrying his attempted blow with frustratingly little effort.

“And if I do not hit you before them?” breath fanning over Fjord’s lips, their proximity and the snarky flirting feeding the slowly growing warmth in his belly.

“Then I’m sure I’ll think of something you can do for me,” he pushes back against Caleb’s blade, forcing him back and adopting the same posture he’d had before. “Again.”

Caleb rushes in.


End file.
